


Mind Over Matter

by undapperthought



Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:39:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undapperthought/pseuds/undapperthought
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has telekinesis, but no one knows about it. What happens during a test when Santana won't leave him alone, and he's had enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Over Matter

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to do something with this, and then I didn't. I might decide to do something with it someday, but no promises.

Kurt kept his head down, trying to remember just how many electrons and neutrons are in an oxygen atom, and just how it had to connect to a pair of hydrogen atoms to make a peroxide molecule. His chemistry midterm lay in front of him, mostly unanswered. He'd studied his notes the night before, and he knew the material, but was having a hard time remembering any of it. The fact that his head was pounding wasn't helping matters. 

 

Kurt took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to rub away the throbbing in his temples and ignore the queasiness in his stomach. He'd dry swallowed two Excedrin last period, but they hadn't helped at all. He still felt miserable. He wanted nothing more than to go home, vomit, and curl up under the covers of his bed in the dark of his room for the rest of the afternoon. He would have gone to the nurse, but his teacher made it very clear that the midterm could not be taken at a different time, no excuses. If he wanted to pass the class, he would have to suffer through.

 

Kurt tried to bring his focus back to his test, but the words and diagrams were all starting to dance and blur together on the page. He gave up on trying to actually answer anything right. He laid his head down on the desk and started filling in random answers, thankful the test was multiple choice, and not full of essay questions. He figured he had to at least get a few right by chance. It would have to be enough.

 

He was about a third of the way finished when he felt something hit him in the neck. He brushed it away and continued, not bothering to look around and figure out where it came from. A few minutes later, it happened again. Then again. He was starting to get annoyed. He just wanted to get his damned test filled out and turned in so he could go home.

 

He heard Santana snicker behind him, before feeling another wad of paper hit his shoulder. He tried to ignore it as he filled in more bubbles on his test. He clenched his fists, getting more and more irritated with every laugh from her, and every projectile she threw at him. 

 

He turned to her. “Knock it off, Satan!” he hissed at her, partly out of anger, partly from the pain the simple act of speaking caused him. He turned back to his test, thankful to be on the last page. 

 

His head throbbed in protest as he felt another wad of paper hit, making him whimper in agony. It was harder then the rest, like Santana had put a pebble in the center of it, and he worked faster to finish the test. He really wanted to turn and yell at her to stop, but there was no way he could. He could feel his pulse quickening and he was starting to sweat. He needed to get out of there, and soon.

 

An empty soda can hitting the back of his head was the last straw. He felt his blood boil and his face redden, and then everything went black. The next thing he knew, the fluorescent lighting tubes in the fixture above their heads shattered. Santana shrieked as bits of glass rained down around her, causing Kurt to wince at the sound as he filled in the last answer bubble.

 

He carefully shook the glass splinters off of himself and his test packet, closing it as he stood. He turned to Santana, who was still sitting there, mouth open in shock, everything covered with white bits of lighting tube. 

 

“What, you can dish it out, but you can't take it?” he quietly snapped at her, before picking up his bag, handing in the midterm paper he surely flunked to the teacher, and walking out. He didn't care about anyone's reaction. He just wanted to go home, where it was still and dark and quiet, and sleep through until next week.


End file.
